


Backwards and Baffling

by GinnyK



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Episode Tag, Episode: s03e03 Ways and Means, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2002-02-08
Updated: 2002-02-08
Packaged: 2019-05-31 04:32:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15111872
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GinnyK/pseuds/GinnyK
Summary: Post Episode toWays and Means





	Backwards and Baffling

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

**Backwards and Baffling**

**by:** Ginny 

**Category:** Post-ep to Ways and Means  
**Pairing:** Josh/Donna  
**Characters:** Josh and Donna  
**Rating:** YTEEN   
**Author Notes:** While most of my post-eps are essentially stand alone pieces I think it would help to read the other 2 from this season before reading this one. Links are at the bottom of the page. 

"Well, this is completely backwards" I mutter to myself as I settle Donna down with her head in my lap and cover her up with the afghan. 

She had appeared on my doorstep 2 hours ago, more than a little drunk. She must have been drinking pretty quickly because we left the office at 7, after our strange celebration over the fact that The House is going to start an investigation of us. She was here by 9:15, drunk. And not the cute, happy drunk that I've seen a few times before. She was upset, rambling and weepy.

We talked for a while but I didn't really get any information out of her. Rambled on about the boxes and a cliff. Not sure what that meant.

I think maybe the past few days just caught up with her at once. I'm pretty sure she hasn't been eating much, cause she hasn't been bugging me about eating. I know she hasn't been sleeping. And for a change, I have been sleeping pretty well.

I reach down and brush her hair back. All the while wondering how we got to this point.

To the point of being each other's, *go to* person. 

She's the one I go to when I'm in trouble, when I need a friend, when I need...anything. 

And for a while I wasn't sure she felt the same way. I mean, I've always known she cares about me. Hell, she probably loves me even. But while I usually don't have any trouble spilling my guts for her she's sometimes more reserved. I have to work to get information out of her, where all she has to do is ask once and I pretty much tell her everything.

I know part of her holding back has to do with the basis of our relationship. Which, as much as we try to forget about it, I am her boss and she is my assistant. But let's face it...we are more than that. Just what, I'm not sure though.

I think part of the reluctance on her part to come running to me has to do with the fact that for the past 18 months I haven't been...how shall I phrase this... the picture of mental health.

She's been so busy holding me together and talking me down from things that I worry about her. Who is holding her together, who's talking her down from the things that give her nightmares?

It's pretty obvious that up until a few days ago, nobody was holding her together.

And I decided it was time to change that.

Aside from the position we are currently in...God she looks cute in my Yale t-shirt and my Cat in the Hat boxers...other things have sort of shifted over the past few days.

I've been doing the comforting.

I've been telling her to get some sleep and take a break.

I've been the calm one.

She's been moody, brooding and hyper.

She's been extra sarcastic and arrogant.

You seeing a pattern here? Things have been completely backwards.

And then something weird happened. We were all gathered in the bullpen to watch the Press Conference that we were strangely looking forward to.

Anyway, Donna came up to me and asked which committee had jurisdiction. I told her that House Oversight was taking over and she flinched. Not really noticeably but enough for me to see it. Cause I'm, ya know, tuned to her.

All through the Press Conference she was standing slightly behind me. Whenever the words House Oversight were spoken she reached out to touch me. She wasn't grabbing me or anything, she would just kind of take a hold of the back of my shirt, hardly touching anything but the fabric. It was like she was holding on for some reason.

When it was over we all sort of gave out a collective sigh. She ran her hand over the small of my back in a very comforting, if somewhat surprising, gesture since we were in a very public place. But I got the feeling it was more to comfort herself.

And I don't know why.

We headed back to my office, finished up a few things and I sent her home. She never said anything about what was bothering her. She never really said anything at all.

Which of course left me totally baffled. I know, that's not a hard thing to do.

There's one other thing that's really strange. For the past 3 days I've been the butt of many, many ballerina jokes. I've found ballet slippers on my chair, I've been sent countless emails with ballet related websites attached and been called more names than I care to think about. But you know what...not one word from Donna. 

And that's strange...that's downright freaky. I should probably be preparing myself for whatever she has in store for me when she gets out of this...this mood, or whatever she is in.

OK, as comforting as this is with Donna in my lap I'm really hungry.

Since Donna's asleep I can have a beer with my leftover Chinese food. 

I really should do some reading. I know Donna threw a pile of stuff in my backpack before she left. As I reached absently in there my hand hits something unfamiliar and plastic.

I pull it out slowly. 

Oh, I am going to kill her when she wakes up.

It is a Ken doll. His hair is standing up on end and he's wearing quite an outfit. He's got a pink leotard, a purple tutu, and for some reason he's wearing a cape. The cape has the letters WCB on it. It takes me a minute but I eventually figure it out.

White-Collar Crime Boy.

I hear a faint giggle from the couch. I turn around, give her a big dimpled smile and raise my beer bottle in a mock salute.

THE END

  



End file.
